


Rutting Night

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adorable Merlin (Merlin), Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV Arthur, Pre-Slash, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: When a royal tradition puts Merlin in danger, Arthur steps in to protect his servant. This leads to a night of revelations and firsts for the two best friends turned something more.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 514





	Rutting Night

Arthur sips from his glass of mulled wine, a look of utter disgust upon his face.

The grand table is filled with nobleman and royalty from the surrounding lands. They all raise their glasses and clink, laughing obnoxiously at their grand pursuit of royal entitlement. None of this would be remotely interesting to the young prince, if not for the next announcement from the royal auctioneer. 

“And the next name on the docket, Merlin!” 

Arthur raises his eyes from his lap at the mention of his loyal and troublesome servant. He pulls the bag of gold carefully from his coat pocket and sits up straight, shoulders back and suddenly authoritative. 

Archduke Ergo chimes in with a sneer that makes Arthur’s gut twist. 

“He’s a fine-looking young man, and so earnest! Why, I’ll bid four pieces.” 

“That’s four pieces! Going once…”

“Five over here!” Earl McVikor raises his hand with a smug sneer. “I’ll tame that ass.” 

“Five pieces, going twice!” 

Having heard enough, Arthur stands and drops his bag onto the wooden surface. 

“I bid ten pieces.” The room quiets. A chair creaks. “He is my man servant, after all. I’m doing you all a favor. The clumsy idiot is hardly worth his weight in grain.” 

Silence spans the chamber. The auctioneer clears his throat, fluffs his tunic, and slams the gavel down upon the wood with a mighty thump.

“Sold! Prince Arthur Pendragon has won the company of Merlin for Rutting Night. Cheers!”

Cups slam together, spilling wine throughout. The auctioneer announces the next servant’s name on the list of playthings. 

Arthur sits back onto his throne, closes his eyes, and contemplates how he will occupy his servant for an entire night without letting on of the horrors that could have befallen the youth.

Two Nights Later

Merlin scurries around Arthur’s chambers like a nervous rabbit, collecting the last of the prince’s dirty clothing into a condensed pile within his scrawny arms. He runs into a bedpost, the consequence of keeping his eyes mostly on the floor, and Arthur is certain he’s seen more of his servant’s dark mop of hair than his actual face today. When he does catch those big blue eyes looking his way, they’re skittish and questioning. Even their banter has been affected, and Arthur has begun to feel like a real ass for the amount of insults he’s landed without Merlin’s proper comebacks. Something is certainly wrong with his man servant and, conveniently, he has all night to get the idiot to talk.

“I never thought I’d say this, but must you be so quiet Merlin?”

The young man shrugs, giving a forced smirk. 

“I could prattle on about the stench of your socks. Been sprayed by a skunk, have you?” 

Arthur glares from his place at the table, feigning offense. His nightshirt hangs loosely on his figure, hardly stopping the inevitable chill that comes with the setting sun. It’s a reminder that the evening is upon them and he has yet to inform Merlin of his additional Rutting Night duties. 

“I have the fortified feet of a knight, Merlin. You could stand to do a bit more labor. It’ll toughen your delicate feminine toes right up.” 

“Don’t suppose climbing five flights of stairs with your sweat-soaked laundry will count as labor.” Arthur snorts. Merlin finally stops his inane movements and faces his master. “Are you properly turned down, sire? If so, I wish to take my leave.” 

Arthur sits upright, clearing his throat. “I cannot allow that, unfortunately. Your services will be required until sunrise.”

Merlin’s eyes widen even more than usual, his face paling. He shifts the bundle of clothing to his other arm and inhales. They hold eye contact for what feels like minutes. The tension and silence expand until Arthur can take no more. 

“Merlin, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop gawking at me as if I have three heads.” 

“Only the single massive one, sire.” The line comes off his tongue like a reflex, leaving Arthur utterly perplexed and Merlin seemingly surprised. Then the servant straightens up and takes on a serious tone. “It’s just that I promised Gaius that I’d help clean the leach tank tonight. He’s expecting me.” 

“Yes, well as enticing as that sounds, he will have to do without your help this evening.” Arthur stands and heads for the door. “I’ll send a message with a guard to inform Gaius. Never mind the laundry, Merlin. I’ll have the guard bring it down. Have a seat at the table.”

“Right then.” Merlin abruptly drops the clothing onto the floor, earning an eyeroll from Arthur, and sinks into one of the red cushioned chairs beside the small brown table. “May I at least ask who I will be serving if I’m to rearrange my plans for the evening against my will?” 

Arthur’s body tenses at the question. Could Merlin possibly know of Rutting Night? 

“Me, of course. You are _my_ man servant.” 

His words come out angrier than intended, but his resentment is not directed at the younger man currently squeezing the arms of the chair with clenched fists. 

They both remain silent as the guard comes in to collect the laundry. Once the muscled man departs, Arthur turns back to find Merlin peering up at him like a puppy thankful for the smallest of scraps. Something breaks within, and he drops his shoulders and eye contact to give a more tranquil approach. 

“Oh Merlin, relax, would you? I simply need to practice my chess skills. I thought you might be a willing and able student, given that you’ve not been a total idiot as of late.” He takes careful steps in the direction of the table and presents a challenging smirk. “That is, if you feel you are capable of such strategy and intellect?” 

Merlin’s lips slowly twist into a wide grin that takes up his whole face. 

“Well, it can’t possibly be that difficult, can it?” He sits up straight in the chair and turns to the chess board, plucking the king from its spot in the center. “I mean, if you can do it…” 

Arthur shakes his head and swallows a burgeoning smile. He takes the seat opposite his servant with a resounding thump. 

“Merlin, you really are a clotpole.” 

An hour later, Merlin has a collection of Arthur’s pieces at his side. He eyes the board from a hunched position, rubbing his chin annoyingly, as the kerchief sweeps at the table’s edge. After several frustrating minutes, his eyes wander up to the prince with mild amusement.

“What is it I’m to say when kidnapping the king again?” 

Arthur leans back, rubbing his eyes forcefully with his two front fingers. 

“First of all Merlin, it’s not kidnapping, it’s capturing.” He shakes his head, accepting this ridiculous defeat. “And the word is checkmate.” 

“Aha.” Merlin moves his last piece into place, effectively blocking Arthur’s king into a corner. “Checkmate!”

Arthur watches the glowing young man raise his arms in an obnoxious victory dance, wondering how any of this has come to pass. Sure, maybe he threw a move here and there, just to give the young servant some encouragement, but he’d never expected for Merlin to catch on quite so quickly. Merlin’s rowdy antics fade as he glimpses Arthur’s stoic face, though his lips still rest in a subtle grin.

“Sorry, sire. Got a might carried away I suppose.” 

Arthur takes a deep breath, carefully eyeing the younger man who is becoming more interesting to him by the moment. He calls up his inner knight, the one who comes out only around his men, but adds a bit of humor to lighten this sudden tension. 

“Never apologize for success, Merlin. You’ve won on your own merit…with the help of beginner’s luck, of course. That won’t happen again, so you should enjoy it now.” 

It works. Merlin relaxes back into his chair once again and speaks lightly as he gathers Arthur's pieces in his arms like treasures from a pot of gold. 

“Fancy another go, then? To prove yourself right?” 

Arthur smiles, despite himself, and shakes his head.

“I have a better idea. I’ve taught you something, now you teach me something.” 

Merlin laughs nervously, carefully placing the pieces on the board as they were prior to the game. “Well, what could I possibly teach you? How to clean up after yourself?” Arthur recognizes this neurotic behavior from the many times Merlin has tidied his chambers. It’s become almost endearing.

“Anything, Merlin. Take your pick. As long as we don’t leave my chambers.” 

The pieces are back in place and facing forward. Merlin meets Arthur’s stare with a shining secret, then he beams and looks away. His charming expression causes a rather pleasant fluttering in Arthur’s gut. 

“Well, there is one thing, but it’s entirely improper and undignified for a future king.” He side-eyes Arthur and purses his lips. “Uther would have my head.” 

Arthur tenses momentarily at the ghastly image of his servant in a guillotine. Then he stands and fluffs his nightshirt out, determined to find out what Merlin can possibly find so degrading and amusing. 

“Well, come along then.” Merlin watches him from his seat, suddenly hesitant. “Don’t be such an idiot, Merlin. I won’t allow my father to behead you. Then I’d have to train a new servant and I certainly don’t have that sort of time.” 

“Of course not, sire.” Merlin bolts upright and smooths his tunic down. He meets Arthur in the middle of the room, examining every wall with a curious expression. “Well, we’ll have to move this chair then. Maybe this table as well.” 

Merlin is pushing furniture first to the left and then to the right. Arthur stands back, eyes squinted in confusion as a large empty space opens in the center of the throw rug. He shakes his head in quiet amusement.

“I fail to understand how moving furniture is so undignified, Merlin.” 

“That’s not what I’m to teach you.” He speaks in gasps while shoving a heavy wooden table to the far corner. Then he stands, places his hands on his hips, and grins comically. “Yes, this will work just fine.” 

He faces Arthur, his cheeks delightfully flushed from the exertion, and nods. Arthur leans back, arms crossed, and tries to ignore that returning fluttering feeling.

“When I was a boy, I’d get myself into all sorts of tight spots that I couldn’t get out of. Once, I fell head-first down a well and managed to get my foot trapped on a vine. The only way I could free myself was to push up with my arms and wiggle out.” He holds his arms up and smiles. “That’s when I learned how to do this trick.” 

Merlin dives down suddenly, landing on his hands and then propelling his legs upwards until he is completely upside down. He sways a moment and then catches his balance. A ridiculous smile lights up his entire face and his hair falls in all directions. The red tunic crawls up his chest, exposing a jarring hipbone and the subtle muscles of his abdomen. Arthur laughs heartily, covering his mouth at the abruptness of the sound. 

“Well, now that is truly improper. My father would have _me_ in the guillotine for such a trick.” 

Merlin laughs too. This time, he takes a few steps with his hands and manages to complete a small circle before initiating a controlled fall back onto his feet. He resumes a full standing position, his arms raised in stiff triangle. 

“I told you so.” He drops his arms and then rushes to Arthur, pulling him by the hand. “Come, you can do it too.” 

Arthur stomach flips as Merlin’s hands are suddenly on his hips, back, stomach and thighs, aligning him in the correct pose. Those warm palms touch his body in these places every day when he dresses and undresses, but this feels different. This causes his cheeks to flush and his nether region to stir, making him suddenly very aware of the tradition of this night. 

“Merlin wait…” Merlin is bending him forward now and he has no choice but to put his weight onto his arms. Then his hips are in the air and Merlin is supporting his lower body in a full vertical position. “Merlin!”

“Straighten your back a bit, that’s right. Just find you balance, and you’ve got it. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” 

Then Merlin steps back and Arthur is truly supporting himself in this pose. It’s absurd, ridiculous, and yet he can’t help but find pride in his ability to do what seems to be the impossible. Merlin is watching him from the front now, his eyes gleaming with delight. Arthur takes in that sight, holds it deep within the knot in his gut, and then finds himself wavering and slipping. 

“Whoa, Merlin!”

The servant arrives just in time to take the brunt of the fall onto the soft carpet. They are a tangle of arms and elbows and legs. Merlin is half underneath Arthur, one leg twisted over Arthur’s hip and the other sticking out between his knees. He’s rubbing his head with a muted groan, his other arm buried beneath the larger man.

“Merlin, are you okay?” 

There is a pause and then Merlin is laughing so hard that his entire form shakes, vibrating the body above him as well. Arthur can’t stop from joining, propping himself up on his elbows and staring down at the scrawny, silly, and suddenly handsome man beneath. Big blue eyes find his and they are so warm and inviting and full of wetness from his bout of giggles. He drops the goofy smile and Arthur notices the contours of his face and the curves of his lips. 

His heart races.

“Merlin…” 

Then Merlin’s full lips cover Arthurs. It’s a slow kiss at first, hesitant, and then Arthur opens almost involuntarily to allow Merlin inside. His entire body feels as if it’s being warmed in a fire- not the kind set below a stake. No, this fire comes from within Merlin. It’s strong and comforting and oh, so, encompassing that Arthur’s hands take on their own life, exploring that soft dark hair and the cheekbones and the smooth flesh beneath that kerchief. Merlin shifts beneath him and their pelvises are touching now, sending a spark straight to Arthur’s groin. 

That’s when Arthur remembers why Merlin is here and not in some other chamber with some other noble. Sense returns to him all at once. He pushes up onto his elbows and flees, leaving Merlin on his back on the carpet. 

“I’m sorry, Merlin.” He paces, his head still swimming from that kiss. “I did not intend for this to happen. I did not intend to hurt you.” 

Merlin jumps into a standing position, his face sweaty and flushed and facing the floor again. 

“You haven’t, sire. It was I who kissed you, after all. I am to blame if either of us. I was just so grateful that it was you who I was assigned to tonight. I was so afraid that it would be…well anybody else.” 

This grabs Arthur’s attention, clearing his head immediately. Fists clenched, he marches forward in a fit of anger. 

“You knew?”

“The other servants talk of this terrible tradition.” Merlin’s breath hitches. “I thought…I thought that if at least it were you, then it would be nice…enjoyable even.”

Merlin relaxes, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. All at once, Arthur realizes that this young man would have given himself over to anyone at his master’s word. Swallowing the sudden sickness in his belly, Arthur reaches for his servant’s hand. The fingers are limp at first and slowly, at Arthur’s gentle coaxing, they tight around his palm. He carefully leads Merlin to the bed, where they sit on the edge. 

“Merlin, I picked you so that no one else could touch you…so that they couldn’t hurt you. You’re mine, in case your pea-sized brain hasn’t noticed yet. I would never allow such harm to come to you. I merely wanted to spend time with you tonight, to learn more about you and what makes you happy. I had no intention of bedding you.” The last part is spoken in a pained whisper. “Certainly not with force or manipulation.”

Merlin’s mouth lifts into the promise of a smile. He licks his lips, seemingly contemplating something, and raises teasing eyes to Arthur.

“So you are…wooing me then?” 

Arthur’s cheeks heat up and he gives an exasperated sigh. Then his hand is in Merlin’s hair and roughly messing the dark strands. 

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.” 

They fall back onto the bed, Merlin now resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder. They stare at the ceiling in silence for a few moments, Arthur contemplating where to go from here. Luckily, Merlin seems to have the answer. 

“What if I…wanted to bed you, sire?” The question is spoken to the ceiling and followed by nervous rambling. “I am not very experienced, and I cannot teach you anything, but I do want to be with you. It wouldn’t be the same as the with the other nobles and servants, because it is my choice.”

Arthur smiles softly, running his fingers through Merlin’s hair in lazy circles. 

“Well then, first of all, you will call me Arthur- not sire. For you must never perform such an act out of a sense of duty, to me or anyone else. If we are to be together, then we will be equals and we will learn together.” He clears his throat, stilling his hand. “Not tonight, however. I refuse to participate in this wretched tradition. I cannot wait until I am king so that I can abolish it at once.” 

Merlin’s hand moves to Arthur’s chest, resting over his heart. Arthur allows the contact with a contented sigh.

“You are a good man, Arthur. Someday you will be the best king that Camelot has seen.” 

The comment stirs something in Arthur’s gut, something akin to fear. Such a future holds no guarantees and every day he doubts his own ability to succeed in his pre-chosen role. 

“Will you remain by my side, Merlin? Even if I fail?”

The younger man sits up, propping his head upon his right arm. His face softens with emotion and his eyes shine as if producing their own bewitching light. 

“Of course, I will never leave you. I’ve pledged my life to you, Arthur. You will not fail, though. You cannot, for it is your destiny to successfully rule over Camelot.”

Arthur studies his best friend’s steady and devoted eyes with a rapidly beating heart. 

“You really believe that, don’t you?” 

Merlin nods emphatically. “As adamantly as I believe in the sky, the earth, and the stars.” 

“Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur covers the long slender fingers with his own and entwines their hands together over his heart. “Now, I do have you for the rest of the night. How would you like to spend our remaining hours?”

Merlin smirked until his eyes crinkled. He bit back a laugh. 

“There is something I’ve always wanted to do.”

Arthur, gods help him, decides that he can’t deny his servant anything tonight, even if it means standing on his head yet again. He gives a subtle nod, accompanied by an obligatory eye roll.

Merlin sits all the way up and pulls his boots from his feet. Red socks emerge, a detail that Arthur finds utterly adorable. Then he is on the ground and tugging at Arthur’s slippers recklessly. 

“Merlin, what on earth are you doing down there?”

Arthur’s stockinged feet now free and somewhat chilled, Merlin mounts the bed once again and takes the prince’s hands.

“Stand up. On the bed.” 

Arthur sighs audibly, masking a smile, and follows Merlin up to a standing position. The younger man stumbles into his chest and then regains his balance quickly enough. 

“Merlin if you make me fall again, you’ll be mucking my horses for the next week.” 

“Well that’s hardly a threat, is it?” The young man laughs. “We both know I’ll be doing that anyway.” 

Arthur doesn’t have a quick enough response because now Merlin is jumping on the bed, barely missing hitting his head upon the silk canopy. Arthur stands bow-legged, using his muscles to remain steady upon the soft and springy surface that is now shifting under Merlin’s collapsing weight. He holds tightly to Merlin’s hands, paranoid that the clumsy man will end up bleeding or worse from this rambunctiousness. 

“Come on sire, don’t be such a clotpole.” 

“It’s Arthur tonight, Merlin.” Arthur digests the previous comment with a hard glare. “And I am not a…clotpole!” 

That’s really all it takes, of course, to convince Arthur to join in. Then they are both jumping, laughing, and wrestling so loudly that the adjoining quarters most definitely hear everything.

\------

The nobles talk the next day about how the prince has fulfilled the Rutting Night tradition loudly and with passion. Arthur sneers at their assumptions, while Merlin hides a knowing smile behind a pitcher of mulled wine.

By the next Rutting Night, Merlin’s name is not even brought up. 

For all know who he belongs to.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or Arthur. No money made here.
> 
> Author’s Note: This is my first Merlin fic! I’ve fallen in love with these guys, through the show and the other merthur fics, and wanted to contribute something to this amazing fandom. Let me know how I did!


End file.
